Flushed (Troyler AU)

Chapter 3

(First half is in Troye's POV, second half is in Tyler's)

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I sat in the dressing room bored out of my mind, tapping my foot on the ground anxiously, the loud thuds easing my angst. I was always nervous before these big shows. Why? I had no idea. You'd think that after performing for three years the nervous feeling resting in the pit of my stomach would subside, but no. It was always there, hidden by the complaisant smile I put on before walking up on stage. I glance at my watch again, seeing as I still had some time left. I sink into the couch grabbing a pillow and burying my face in it. I loved singing, it was my passion, but my nerves made it seem like a chore.

A knock escaped from the other side of the door, causing me to jump from the unexpected noise.

"It's time Troye." I heard my manager calling to me, his voice muffled.

I stood up, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans before proceeding to open the door and following my manager backstage. Everyone was running around, double checking the mics and lights. I put in my earpieces, my hands shaking.

Time to get this over with.

A string of good lucks sounds from my team, reassuring me I have nothing to worry about. I murmur a 'thanks' before receiving the nod to walk up on the stage. As soon as I step up, I hear the crowd roaring, their hands violently clapping. I stare at them in awe.

All these people came here to see me?

A feeling of relief washes over me and leaves me wondering as to why I was so worried earlier. I flash the crowd a confident smile, scanning their faces as I introduce myself into the microphone. I always feel the need to welcome everyone. Welcome them into my world, my mind, the different thoughts that raced through my mind when I wrote the songs. My lyrics are the focus, depicting each emotion I have ever felt, each smile, each tear that rolled down my cheek. I couldn't say something out loud? I wrote it down. The words flowed from me like an ocean current, taking down each wall that blocked its definite path.

A mint-coloured mob of hair, near the barriers, catches my attention and leaves me intrigued. My eyes follow the curves of they boy's features, flickering over his lips for a moment before noticing his sparkling-blue eyes on me. I study his expression, pure admiration with a hint of shock. I take in his appearance, my stare washing over his entire body. I can't deny his attractiveness. This boy. He's got me interested already, and all it took was one glance. He's obviously at the front, meaning he will be at the meet and greet after the show. This realization causes me to, at lightning speed, formulate a plan in my head.

How can I possibly get him out of those pants? Is the only question on my mind, as I undress him with my eyes in front of the massive crowd. I begin to wink at him, but deciding I should save it for later, I begin singing the intro to "Happy Little Pill," the song that started it all.

"In the crowd, alone"

"And every second passing reminds me I'm not home"

Everyone is singing along, perfectly in sync, as if they've practiced it a million times before, creating a magical, euphoric moment. And although I try to focus on the scenes played out in front of me, my mind can't help but wander back to the boy with mint green hair. I've always said that I would date a fan in interviews, but everyone knows that's a load of bullshit. As I glance down again to where him and his friend are dancing, I can't help but question myself. Maybe there was more truth to that statement than I believed so. But first I should set my priorities straight, do I want him moaning my name or sharing cute Eskimo kisses with me?

I continued performing for another half an hour, the crowd constantly growing louder, making me feel as if I've done my job right. Giving the fans exactly what the payed for was always the most important thing, meaning I had to deliver. Give them my all.